


Demon Drink

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, M/M, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-25
Updated: 2008-08-25
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Gene only ever does this when he’s been drinking.





	Demon Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for the **1973flashfic** _alcohol_ challenge.

***

 

 

Gene only ever does this when he’s been drinking. When he’s three-sheets to the wind, horny and desperate and not responsible for his own actions. 

 

 

Grips his cock with a firm, purposeful stroke. _Oh God, yes._

 

 

Thinks about that smooth body – he’s seen him naked and knows he’s slim but lithe with unexpected strength. Thinks about how it would feel to touch him, touch that pale skin, run a hand over those ribs and flat belly down to his cock…

 

 

Picks up the pace now, moving his other hand over the head of his cock, leaking and sticky, and then down to his balls, over and behind them. Wonders what it would feel like to have Tyler’s hands doing this – just _there_ – and Christ, he feels so close but the booze has dulled his sharpness and he’s still hovering on the brink.

 

 

What pushes him over isn’t the touch of his fingers, wet with his own fluids, to his arsehole, but the thought of Sam’s cock pressing in the same place. 

 

 

His head is spinning, the effects of the alcohol hitting him harder as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He feels sick, suddenly aware that he’s stewing in a fog of stale sweat and old fags, the smell of greasy canteen food and scotch now overlaid with the reek of semen. He should move to get some water, get washed, but it’s all he can do to lie still and not vomit.

 

 

Tomorrow he’ll shove this out of his mind as he always does. Clean himself up. Hair of the dog. Back to the job. Keep the streets safe for decent people. 

 

 

And he absolutely will not think about sex with Sam Tyler.

 

 

 

Until the next time.

 

 

***


End file.
